


Through Fire Steel is Forged

by Freaky123



Category: Cirque du Freak | The Saga of Darren Shan - Darren Shan
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freaky123/pseuds/Freaky123
Summary: When Vancha March and Larten Crepsley travel to Vampire Mountain for Paris's funeral, they uncover more emotions than they bargained for. Through a process of grief, hatred, sadness, and acceptance, Larten and Vancha find more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Alice Burgess/Debbie Hemlock, Alice Burgess/Vancha March, Arrow/Sarah, Darren Shan/Debbie, Larten Crepsley/Alicia Dunyck, Larten Crepsley/Arra Sails, Larten Crepsley/Vancha March, Mika Ver Leth/Kurda Smahlt, Paris Skyle/Seba Nile
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. The Initial Impact

_“Some men never get to hold their forever in their arms,” Paris murmured into Seba’s ear. Seba blushed and buried his face into Paris’s chest._   
_“I am grateful that I have the chance,” Seba said warmly. He felt a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before- love._

And now Paris was gone. Dead. Seba cleared his throat and angrily wiped at his tears. His love was gone-gone- and he could not accept it. He wiped his eyes one more time before Vancha gently knocked on the door leading into his chambers.“Come in,” Seba managed. Vancha walked into the chambers carefully, and Seba noted that his eyes were red. Larten followed Vancha, and his eyes were red as well.

  
“‘Tis a dark night,” Seba managed to say. Vancha turned away and let out a sob into his hand. Larten laid a hand on one of his broad shoulders and squeezed it gently. Seba shed a few tears himself, but Larten couldn’t cry.

  
Seba laid his head onto Larten’s shoulders, and Larten couldn’t help but remember himself in Seba’s place and Mika’s in his own a decade ago. Good gods, had it been a decade ago?

  
“I am sorry,” Larten whispered. He laid a hand on Seba’s shoulder as well, but he didn’t know who he was apologizing to- Seba or Arra.  
And now her face flashes in his mind’s eye. Arra running her fingers through his hair on nights when it felt impossible to go on. Arra singing softly to him as he drifted off to sleep, his heart filled with love for Alicia. Larten felt a lump begin to form in his throat. Had he ever truly loved her? The thought made him sick.

  
“I loved him,” Seba said simply.

  
“I know,” Larten replied. Seba let out a choked sob and bit the inside of his cheek.

  
It was not supposed to end like this. They were going to be mated once more- this time until the rest of their lives. It was not fair. But then again, not much in life ever was- and living for 700 years he had learned that within the first 200. Still- he just wanted one more. One more kiss, this time cherished more. One more hug, this time held just a bit longer. One more I love you, this time said with more care and sincerity.  
“He was the father I never had,” Vancha choked out. Larten bit his lip and said nothing.

  
“He thought of you as a son,” Seba said, “and loved you as one as well.” A pause. “Just as I love you, Larten.”

  
This tipped Larten over the edge. He let tears slide down his cheeks, but this time he didn’t bother to stop them.

  
“Thank you,” Larten whispered. Seba smiled thinly and hugged him. He would value his son until his death-gods forbid- but war was war.

  
A part of him wished that his son was still a child like Darren was. A part of him was glad that his son was a man- a man that Seba could be proud of- but all of him was glad that he was here.

  
He knew that it was not meant to last, but he cherished each second without a second thought.


	2. Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seba remembers what his first encounter with Paris was like, as well as wonders the identity of the woman- or man- who seems to have caught the fancy of a certain green-haired Vampire Prince.

_ No matter how old Seba would get, or how foggy his memory could be, he never forgot the first day he met Paris. His blue eyes had stunned him at first. They seemed surreal to him- bluer than the Mediterranean- and he knew in a split second that his life would forever be changed. His mentor nudged him along and Seba glanced behind himself, just barely locking eyes with the mysterious man.  _

_ As soon as nighttime fell, he gently slid his sandals on and ran back to the marketplace where he saw the man. It was empty upon first glance, but as soon as he swept over it a second time he found what- or rather  who-  he was looking for.  _

_ The man stood with his feet rooted to the cobblestones, just as Seba’s were, and his eyes were transfixed on Seba.  _

_ “Who are you?” the man asked. He had the same accent as the Greeks, but it seemed slightly different.  _

_ “Seba Nile,” Seba responded, “and yourself?” _

_ “Paris Skyle,” he said. To Paris, Seba was the one with the strange accent- but he didn’t tell him that because he wanted to see what this beautiful stranger wanted from him. Creatures of the night were allowed to have human relations- granted, it was frowned upon- but they were allowed nonetheless. So what was one night with Seba?  _

_ “Your eyes are wonderful,” Seba said, “it is almost as if you captured the entirety of the Mediterranean Sea in them.” Paris blushed. He had never been complimented like that before, and he didn’t know how to respond.  _

_ “You look handsome,” he blurted out. Seba let out a chuckle and walked toward Paris. Paris walked toward Seba as well, and they met in the middle.  _

_ The man was even more handsome up close. His brown eyes were almost black in the moonlight, and his skin was uncommonly smooth.  _

_ “Have I seen you before?” Paris murmured. Seba’s lips were a beautiful red, Paris noted.  _

_ “Not that I can recall,” Seba whispered, “perhaps elsewhere- the world is a wonderfully large place.” Seba’s hand reached for Paris’s, but Paris found it first.  _

_ Paris gasped once he wrapped his fingers around Seba’s hand. He could feel the scars on Seba’s fingertips- barely detectable by daylight unless one knew what to look for- lightly caress his hand. _

_ “You are a vampire!” Paris gasped. Seba immediately jerked his hand away and began to run away. Perhaps he was another vampire hunter- how could he be so stupid!  _

_ “I am too!” Paris shouted to the running Seba. Seba stopped running and turned around.  _

_ “Prove it to me,” he urged. Paris held up his fingertips, and in the dim moonlight there were ten identical, small scars.  _

_ “How old are you?” Seba asked.  _

_ “Ninety seven.” Paris grinned. “And what about yourself?” _

_ “Eighty three.”  _

_ “Who is your mentor?”  _

_ “Harnan Oan. And you?” Paris smiled.  _

_ “Chok Yamada.”  _

_ “How interesting,” Seba mused, “is he here with you?” Paris shook his head.  _

_ “He is back at Vampire mountain- Council is soon, and he is a Prince, therefore he needs to be there sooner rather than later.” A pause. “Is yours with you?”  _

_ “Yes- we are making the trek together.” Paris grinned.  _

_ “Would you two mind if I tagged along?” he asked, moving closer to Seba. Seba seemed flustered and only offered a nod of his head as an answer.  _

_ A breeze flew through the air, leaving Seba’s hair standing on end. Paris unslung the cloak from his shoulders and draped it over the younger vampire.  _

_ “This should keep you warm on the outside,” Paris said. He lightly kissed Seba’s temple. “And this is to keep you warm on the inside.” Seba blushed a deep red and watched as the stranger-turned friend walked out of eyesight.  _

Seba smiled at the intruding memory as he sorted through all of Paris’s belongings. As his former mate it was Seba’s responsibility to go through his old belongings and see what was reusable and what needed to be thrown out. He could not bring himself to throw anything out, much less the small fabric scrap in the palm of his left hand. The cloak itself had been worn to shreds centuries ago, but the memories the two had formed in it would never fade from his memory, no matter how old and senile he would get. 

“Seba?” Vancha asked. Seba turned his head to face the familiar green-haired vampire he had grown to think of as a third son. 

“Yes?” Seba asked. The scrap of cloak was still clutched in his hand, and he had no intention of letting it go. 

“What would you want me to do with this?” Vancha asked. He held up a small perfume bottle, and if Seba hadn’t known better he would think it belonged to a woman. 

It  _ did  _ belong to a woman before it was his love’s, but that was beside the point. 

“Leave it where it is, Sire,” Seba said kindly, “I shall deal with it later.” 

Vancha took a gulp of air. 

“Seba?” he asked in an oddly high voice. Seba frowned. 

“Yes, Vancha?” he asked kindly. Vancha swallowed, and for a split second Seba thought he was going to throw up or faint; thankfully, he did neither. 

“How did you know that you loved him?” he asked. Seba smiled wistfully. 

“Through trials and tribulation, through sticking with him through the thick and thin, and through the perseverance by both of us,” Seba answered honestly. The perfume bottle still made his blood boil, but he chose to forgive Paris- just as Paris had forgiven him. 

“Why?” Seba asked. Vancha cleared his throat. 

“Just asking for the future,” he said awkwardly. Seba bit his lip. This was most unlike Vancha- he never skirted around a question, especially one he asked himself. 

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Seba asked jokingly. He didn’t expect for Vancha to turn a pale pink, much less for him to laugh awkwardly. 

“No,” Vancha said. He turned his back to Seba, but he could feel the old man’s gaze burn through his animal hides. 

Seba smiled thinly before turning his attention back to the matter of Paris’s personal belongings. Ah, what he would give to be young with Paris again- perhaps they would not have made those awful mistakes, but perhaps they would have. If he could go back in time, Seba would not stop a single one- almost every single one anyway. 


End file.
